Going avant garde
by Chinese Bakery
Summary: Back in Fox River, you flirted with me all the time, now we can barely say a word to each other without blushing like tenthgraders.


**Going avant-garde**

Thanks to becoolbec for beta-reading.

* * *

_flirting and sharing__  
__a cheap motel room in the__  
__middle of the night_

When they pulled up in front of the motel, it was pitch black outside and they were exhausted. The excitement and lack of sleep was catching up with the three of them, the last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster.

Lincoln shook his half-asleep brother's shoulder not so gently.

"Wake up your girlfriend. We need to get a room."

Michael turned to the back seat and saw Sara was lying, fast asleep.

"Sara. Sara, wake up," he murmured as he stroke her hand.

She opened her eyes and started to stir. Michael couldn't help but smile at her peaceful expression. It was the first time since Fox River that she didn't seem strained and taut.

"We need you to go and get the room."

She nodded and sat up, shaking away the lingering torpor. She looked back at Michael and smiled softly. They exchanged a long, significant gaze for a minute, until the moment was broken by Lincoln's chortle.

"Do you want to spend the rest of the night in this car or what?"

"Alright, I'm going!"

She glared at him as she exited the car and walked to the entrance door.

The reception desk was deserted. She heard the distant sound of a TV, but couldn't make out the program. She prayed silently that it wasn't turned on to the news.

She knocked on the reception desk a couple of times, not daring to use the old-fashioned bell. Going unnoticed was quickly becoming second nature. She knocked again and the TV went silent with a click.

An old man in dressing gown walked to her from the adjacent room, remote still in hand.

"Hi, Sir."

"Lady," he answered with a nod. "What can I do for you" the guy said, looking her up and down from head to toe.

Ignoring her growing unease, Sara heard herself say, "I need two rooms for the night. If that's possible."

"Two?" He frowned, extending his neck to look over her shoulder at the car.

"Yes, please."

He stared at her for a moment, as if knowing he had seen her face somewhere but couldn't decide where or when. She let a lock of hair fall in front of her face and looked down. She had been given several of those looks over the past few days, but hadn't learned yet to contain the panic it elicited.

She paid in cash and grabbed the keys without another word before retreating to the car, feeling the receptionist's questioning look still aimed at her back on the way out.

When the brothers got out of the vehicle, she handed a key to Lincoln and turned to Michael, the other key held in evidence in her small hand. Fighting not to blush, she said as calmly as she could, "We're in room 21, Linc in 20."

The air seemed suddenly heavier than it had a second before. Michael looked thoroughly bewildered by her bold move, while Lincoln grinned at his shoes, fighting to put on a straight face.

"Alright kids, I'm turning it. See you tomorrow," he declared, before heading to his room, laughing quietly all the way.

"I, hum…"

"Let's go inside okay? I'm freezing", she lied.

-------

The room looked exactly as cheap as it cost. It was rudimentarily furnished with a double bed and a night stand on which lay a worn out Bible. The thin blanket looked suspiciously stained and the hideous tapestry looked like it would peel off the wall with a single pull. A large, intimidating cross was hanging over the headboard.

Un-phased, Sara sat on the bed and looked up at Michael, who was still standing hesitantly by the door.

"We need to talk", she announced with a long, expectant gaze.

"Okay… Is that… why we're here?" he asked with a frown, half relieved, half disappointed.

"I thought we might be more comfortable without your brother's incessant chuckling. He seems to find our situation hilarious, and as nice as it is to see him amused, for a change, I didn't go this far to entertain Lincoln."

"What… what situation?"

Sara sighed loudly. "This. What we're doing. The sideway glances, the meaningful silences. We kissed, Michael. Twice. We said… things to each other and now we're stuck in some kind of adolescent trance. I don't know if it's because your brother is with us _all the time_ or if you're having second thoughts, either way we need to talk about it."

"You want to talk about… the kisses?"

"Well, yes. Do you… have regrets?

"How can you even ask?" he answered with a frown.

"Then what? What is the problem? Back in Fox River, you flirted with me all the time, now we can barely say a word to each other without blushing like tenth-graders. What's changed?"

"What happened in Fox River doesn't matter. Back then, I never thought we'd have a chance to… be together. What we have now, it's real."

"So you keep saying, but I don't even know what it is that we have. With the receptionist earlier, I was so scared he might recognize me I almost ran back to the car. I can't take any more anxiety and doubt. I need for us, our relationship, to feel safe. I need to hold on to you."

"You can. I'm here." He walked to the bed and kneeled in front of her. "I'm in love with you, Sara. I'm not sure it's enough after what you sacrificed, but I need you to know that. I love you," he repeated, cupping her cheek.

"I love you too," she replied, stroking his hand.

They were silent for a moment, watching each other closely, unsure of what to say next.

"So, does that mean you want to kiss me again?" she asked playfully.

"I definitely plan to", he assured her with a warm smile, and rose to his feet. Sara didn't move.

"Your brother isn't here."

"No, but I'm sure he's pressed against that wall trying to eavesdrop on every word we say," he replied as he sat next to her, their bodies touching.

"Well, we don't want to disappoint him, do we?" she asked with a mischievous grin as she leaned into him a little more.

"We don't," he agreed before closing the distance to kiss a spot on her neck, right bellow her ear.

They exchanges many kisses after that, exploring each other's mouths, face, neck, any extent of exposed skin, before Sara interrupted them to declare, "I think our audience expects more from us."

"What do you think they're entitled to?"

"Nudity," she affirmed, standing up to effortlessly pull her top over her head. She gave him a second to take in her exposed chest before sitting on his knees and kissing im hungrily, her hand searching the edge of his shirt to lift it up over his own chest, her hand caressing the inked skin of his back.

They broke the kiss only to remove Michel's shirt and resume exploring each other, their combined weight urging several angry squeaks from the old box-spring beneath them.

Seconds later, they were interrupted by a loud banging against the wall, followed by Lincoln's growl.

"Some people are trying to get some sleep, here!"

"I think our public finds our show too avant-garde," Michael murmured with a mock frown as he let himself fall flat on the bed, taking her with him.

"I wouldn't say avant-garde. Although it's definitely innovative," she asserted while unbuckling his belt.

"Some would say experimental," he added as he slipped off of his jeans.

"Overall progressive" she concurred as she got rid of her own pants.

"Radical, even," he grinned as he rolled over her, his hands travelling up her legs to grab the edge of her panties.

"Well, if it's too liberal for them, this show will have to go on without an audience," she murmured to his ear.

Much to Lincoln's despair, they didn't talk again for the rest of the night.


End file.
